


Cracked Actor

by Dont_touch_the_phlebotinum



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Golden Age Hollywood, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, closeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:57:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7571521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dont_touch_the_phlebotinum/pseuds/Dont_touch_the_phlebotinum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody had secrets. Most people's weren't nearly as interesting as they liked to think they were.</p>
<p>There were always exceptions to that rule, though. Loki had just never expected Bucky Barnes to be one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cracked Actor

The Royal Palm Hotel was as infamous as it was luxurious. The refuge of the rich and famous looking to escape the bustle of central Los Angeles, it had been home to many a scandal over the years; Hollywood elite caught in the midst of torrid affairs, politicians spilling the wrong secrets to the wrong person after too many drinks, whatever controversies Howard Stark found himself embroiled in seemingly every other month. Even tonight there was an air of anticipation among some of the patrons in the hotel bar, hoping they'd have front row seats to the latest tabloid fodder.

For Loki's part, he had little interest in any of it. He'd admit, he had some fondness for seeing the facade of wholesomeness and respectability of the upper echelons of society slip, giving the public a peek at the ugliness lurking behind the glamour, but even that grew tiresome after a while. Everybody had secrets. Most people's weren't nearly as interesting as they liked to think they were.

He sat at a table in a quiet corner of the room, nursing his drink while he watched the pianist tinkling some jazzy number through the haze of cigarette smoke. It was thick enough to sting his eyes, to cast the room in a dreamlike quality, the dim lights on the walls and candles burning in little votives on each table seeming to swim and dance before Loki's gaze. He absently held his hand out over the flame in front of him, and finally, when the heat licking his palm was too much to endure, Loki pulled away, reaching into his pocket for the cigarette tin he kept close to his heart like it was his most treasured possession. Perhaps it was. He lit one and watched the long plume of smoke he exhaled curl in the air and mingle with the rest. It was far from his first of the day, and would be far from his last.

He'd never wanted to come to Hollywood. Everything was too flawless, as if the entire damned town had been meticulously engineered to give the appearance of perfection. The people were as fake, as shallow and vapid, as the films, and Loki loathed to be associated with either. But it was where the work was, and every once in a while a director was able to slip his dream project past the studio's noses and garner enough faith to be granted leeway in choosing which films he attached his name to. If Loki did well enough peddling the junk he was forced to at the moment, hopefully one day he would stand among their ranks.

He had to. He'd not come all this way to prove his father right.

"Laufeyson," somebody said in greeting, and Loki glanced towards the man, one of the studio's lawyers. They shared a nod, and thankfully he moved on to join the men sat around a large table near the centre of the room without forcing Loki into a conversation. His patience for idle chatter with relative strangers had been one of the first things he'd lost upon his arrival in America — not that he'd ever had much to begin with.

Loki took another drag of his cigarette, tapped the growing column of ash clinging to the end into the ashtray in front of him, his eyes flicking back towards the entrance as an excitable murmur swept through the room. He sighed and drained the rest of his bourbon when he spotted the cause of the disturbance.

Bucky Barnes, the studio's latest golden boy, had come sauntering into the bar, a winning smile on his face for the cameras whose flashbulbs were illuminating the room with bright, unforgiving white light and a pretty, petite brunette who looked like she was on cloud nine on his arm. No doubt she was there for the benefit of the cameras as well.

It was little surprise to see him turn up; many of the cast and crew were staying at the hotel while they finished production on their latest picture nearby: a piece of romantic drivel that used the war as a backdrop rather than the basis for a far more compelling drama. As a dashing hero, Barnes was a good enough fit, and Loki did have a grudging respect for him — Loki fought with just about every star he ever had the misfortune to work with, and Barnes was no exception in that regard, yet where other actors demanded extra lines or more flattering shots, Barnes' concerns were more about the quality of the end product than how good it made him look. He cared more about making a decent picture than Loki did. But as the romantic lead... well. There was a reason the studio had apparently abandoned its plans to bolster the film's publicity with claims Barnes and his co-star Angie Martinelli had fallen for each other off set as well. Yet even with the pair's dismal romantic chemistry, audiences would eat it up, and Barnes' star would rise ever higher.

He was another of Hollywood's flawlessly manufactured darlings, with his perfect hair, perfect smile, and perfect life, and America loved him. People were fickle creatures, though, and Loki had seen plenty of promising leading men like him rapidly gain adoration only to be even more rapidly forgotten, in just the few years he'd been here. But if any of them had staying power, it was Barnes.

There was something different about him; a substance beneath the vapidity, the Brooklyn boy done good who perhaps wasn't quite as comfortable with this life as he let on. Loki doubted the audiences who loved him so would ever pick up on it as the reason he stood out from all the others. That something restrained which never quite left his stance, which lingered behind his eyes even as they twinkled with charm, was a thing few would notice unless they were looking for it. And Loki seemed unable to do anything but. He had no interest in unearthing others' secrets, yet Barnes' left him strangely curious.

Barnes steered his date towards the bar, making a show of winking to the pair of women said beside them as he pulled out his date's stool for her and ordered their drinks, and the women blushed and giggled and coyly played with the strings of pearls draped around each of their necks. They were dressed to the nines, not a hair nor smudge of makeup out of place, though clearly not moneyed enough to really belong here rubbing elbows with celebrities. Loki would wager they spent their every night sat in whatever exclusive bars and clubs would have them, hoping for someone like Barnes to look their way.

But they weren't the only ones angling for Barnes' attention tonight. As Loki watched a gaggle of people converged around the man, many of those keen to share a word with him people Loki recognised, writers and executives trying to get in Barnes' good books in case it might benefit them at a later date. Barnes met them all with a smile, greeted them like old friends, but even from across the room Loki could see his civility was hollow.

Perhaps he wasn't as good an actor as people claimed, after all.

Loki stubbed out his cigarette and got to his feet, empty glass in hand while he returned to the bar for a refill. He was certainly going to need another drink to stomach the sight of these toadies desperately trying to make connections, new names to drop at their next cocktail party.

Barnes' eyes caught Loki's from the other end of the bar when Loki stood waiting for his drink, but before he could do more than hold Loki's gaze another hand clapped him on the shoulder and, game face back on, Barnes turned to greet the woman who had disturbed him. Loki left them to it. He snatched up his glass the moment it slid across the polished wood to him and stalked back to his table. He could retire to his room, he supposed, though drinking alone always felt so much more companionable when he did it in a room full of other people, even if they were people he couldn't stand. He sat back in his chair, took another sip of cool, sweet-tasting liquor, and turned his gaze back to the piano.

He'd never held much passion for music. His mother had always loved it, always had records or the wireless playing when she wasn't sat at the grand piano that had taken pride of place in the drawing room herself, but try as he might, Loki had never found himself particularly affected by a melody or voice. Yet he sat and watched anyway, tuning out the chatter and revelry around him as one song melted seamlessly into the next, until a voice cut through Loki's reverie.

"May I?"

Loki blinked and looked up to see Barnes stood behind the opposite chair, one hand hovering over the backrest waiting for Loki's permission to pull it back and take a seat. He didn't know what Barnes could possibly want from him, but Loki gestured for him to go ahead all the same, and Barnes popped open the button of his jacket and sank into the chair in one fluid, surprisingly graceful movement. They were silent after that. Certainly they'd never had a great many polite words for each other before, though there was a hint of awkwardness in the air between them now, as if they both felt they should say something but were unsure of how to proceed. Barnes stared down into his glass, his brow furrowed in thought, eyes flicking up to meet Loki's again after a second or two.

Finally Loki broke the silence before it could turn too uncomfortable. "Tired of your adoring public?" he said while he pulled out his cigarettes again and brought another to his lips.

Barnes glanced over his shoulder towards the other patrons behind him, back to networking among themselves now the mild thrill of having someone slightly more famous than they in their midst had dissipated. "They're sweet," Barnes said diplomatically, with a practised smile.

"No they aren't."

They were vultures; Loki and Barnes knew it both. Of course, there were few who weren't in Los Angeles. They'd take all you had to offer while you were the hot ticket in the hope it would give their own name a boost in turn, and discard you the second they spotted someone better on the horizon. Loki wondered at times if it was a trait people were born with in this town, or if it rubbed off on you the longer you spent here.

Barnes gave a slight nod and took a drink. "I can go, if you'd rather," he said while he set his glass back down, fingers still curled around the delicate crystal like he expected to be getting up again at a moment's notice. "I just thought folks might give me five minutes' peace if it looked like you and I were talking shop."

"I wouldn't count on it," replied Loki. He sat forward, propping his elbows on the table the exact way he'd been ordered not to all his life. "But we can pretend, just in case."

"Appreciate it."

"We don't actually have to discuss work, though, do we? I came here to try and forget about it." He had no idea what they were supposed to talk about instead, though. Loki didn't know a thing about Barnes, and curious as he was to learn more about the man, it felt oddly inappropriate to suddenly begin questioning him about his life as if Loki had any actual investment in it.

Barnes smiled — a genuine smile this time, crinkling the corners of his eyes and stripping him of the world-weary look he often carried. "You hate the movie that much?"

"It's hardly how I imagined making a name for myself."

"What is?"

"I don't know," Loki replied while Barnes brought his tumbler to his lips, eyes curious as they watched Loki intently, "creating something that makes people think. Something with substance."

"I'm not sure people'll go for that," Barnes said, and looked back over his shoulder. He shook his head in disdain. "Bunch of phonies."

Loki smirked at that. It was possibly the first honest statement from him Loki had ever heard. "You don't count yourself among them, Barnes?" he said with an arch of his eyebrow.

He stared back at Loki for long enough that Loki wondered if he had offended him perhaps more than he'd meant to, but eventually Barnes shrugged, dipping his head to gaze down at the table with a bashful twitch of his lips. "This ain't exactly my scene," he admitted. He sounded more and more the New Yorker with each word; a boy who'd come up with nothing, lost in a world of wealth and privilege in which he didn't belong. "And you should call me Bucky."

Loki nodded. There was a sudden prickle of heat at his fingers, and he looked down to see he'd let his cigarette burn down to the butt without taking more than a drag or two. He dropped it into the ashtray but didn't bother to light another.

"That isn't your real name, is it?"

"Who goes by their real name in this town?"

Loki's lips twitched into another slight smile. He had a point.

"James," he said, and Loki met his eyes again, a silent greeting to the person hiding behind the manufactured gleam of Hollywood. "What's yours?"

"Well, I imagine that depends on your interpretation," Loki replied as he shifted in his seat and took another long drink. Bucky's gaze stayed on him, however, waiting for him to elaborate, so Loki did. "I was born an Odinson, though that doesn't mean I really am one."

"So why Laufeyson?"

"The lesser of two evils." Of course, he'd never actually met his birth father to know that was the case. He'd heard vague stories as to the man's character that his mother had reluctantly divulged after Loki's endless pestering on the subject, had been told in no uncertain terms that he was better off away from him, but still, it was hard to imagine Laufey being much worse than his adoptive father.

Bucky stared back at Loki, something akin to quiet understanding in his eyes, though as if he could perhaps sense they were veering towards a delicate subject, he asked no further questions. He had been leaning in closer, unconsciously, it seemed, throughout their conversation, but with a sudden realisation he caught himself, back rigid and shoulders squared as he sat back in his chair and gulped down a quick mouthful of his drink. He peered round at the crowds, none of their eyes on him yet he watched them suspiciously all the same.

"You realise that if you keep looking back at them you'll only draw more attention to yourself and people most certainly will disturb you," Loki said. The thought of that was more unappealing than Loki would have expected. Upon Bucky's arrival he hadn't much cared if somebody would come over and claim Bucky's attentions, his only concern that it would disturb his own peace, yet he had to admit he was enjoying Bucky's company more than he'd anticipated. He wasn't yet ready to go back to sitting lonely and silent in a crowded bar.

Bucky looked back at him, though there was still a hint of tension in the way he held himself. "Just making sure people aren't watching us and getting the wrong idea," he said.

"About what?"

"About why we're sitting all cosy together."

Loki's gaze flicked around the room. There were plenty of other men sat around the tables engrossed in conversation; men from completely separate fields and men who worked closely together, men who could have only had the most passing of acquaintances and men who looked like the best of friends. Surely nobody could find any cause for suspicion upon noticing Loki and Bucky doing the same?

"And what idea would that be?" Loki said, although he had some notion already of what the answer to that question was.

"That we're..." Bucky trailed off and finished with a shrug.

"Queer?"

He bristled at the word. "Your word, not mine," he said with a forced nonchalance, his gaze cast off to the side like he couldn't quite meet Loki's eyes while the topic still pervaded the air between them.

Loki frowned. Necessity had taught him to avoid drawing people's attention for the wrong reasons, to keep his gaze and his behaviour and his thoughts in check in the presence of others, though he wouldn't have expected those concerns to even enter the mind of a shameless skirt-chaser like Bucky. Unless, perhaps...

"Are you?"

"Of course not," Bucky said, too quickly, his tone too sharp. As denials went, it was hardly the most convincing Loki had heard.

Loki shrugged in response, doing his best to keep the smile from his face. It was all beginning to make sense now: the girls, the hints of reservation and discomfort Bucky could never fully mask, the ever-present sense that he was hiding something. And suddenly he was no longer such an enigma. Yet where others would lose Loki's interest at this point, Bucky only left him more intrigued.

"No need to get defensive, Barnes; it was just a question," he replied casually. "It wouldn't be much of a surprise to hear you were."

"And why's that?" His voice still had an edge to it, his jaw clenching as he waited for Loki's response, but instead of hardness or defiance in his eyes Loki could have sworn he detected a hint of fear.

"Well, you would hardly be the first," he said. "It's almost a cliché by this point: the handsome, charming leading man, hiding who he really is behind an aura of virility to keep on selling those movie tickets. Tell me, how many starlets and socialites have you supposedly dated over the past year?"

Bucky said nothing.

"You'll marry one of them, eventually," Loki continued, "when it suits some new, more mature direction the studio decides to take your career, or when people start asking too many questions. Then after a few years, when those pesky questions rear their ugly head again and people wonder why you two haven't started a family yet, your poor wife will turn out to be barren. Such a tragedy. Naturally you'll be devastated, but you love the dear so much you'd never dream of leaving her, even if she can't bear you the children you so deeply desire. And when the news comes out you'll have the public's sympathy, and they'll go rushing to see your next picture thanks to their renewed love for you." He paused and eyed Bucky watching him, still rigid with tension. "If it's true, of course."

"Right," Bucky said after a few drawn-out seconds of silence, his lips pursing. Obviously Loki had hit a nerve. Which almost certainly meant he was on to something. "Well as much as I appreciate the beat session..." He pushed his chair back, readying himself to leave, but at the prospect Loki found he was reluctant to let him go.

"Wait," he said as Bucky stood, holding a hand up to halt Bucky before he could move away. "I'm sorry; clearly my imagination is getting away from me." He hoped his faced showed seemingly genuine remorse. It was the look he was aiming for, though it had been so long since he'd experienced the feeling he wasn't entirely certain how the expression would manifest across his features to try and recapture it. He was no actor, but he could be a damned fine liar when he wanted to be. The two were more or less the same thing. "Let me buy you a drink. An apology."

Bucky regarded him for a moment, before looking back to his waiting women, sat at the bar chatting amongst themselves. He should really be returning to them; he'd certainly had plenty more than his five minutes of blissful solitude — or as close to it as he could hope for, at least — with Loki. He should have wanted to return to them, if he really was the man he claimed to be, yet as he gazed towards the bar he almost looked like he dreaded the thought of facing them again.

Finally he looked back at Loki. "Scotch on the rocks," he said, and sank back down into his seat, sliding his tumbler, empty except for the slowly melting ice cubes, across the table to him. Loki caught it with one hand, draining his own glass in the other. A smile crept across his lips while he stood and crossed to the bar.

He ordered another round in the momentary lull between songs, and a sharp giggle rang out clearly through the buzz of conversation. Loki's eyes flicked down the bar in search of the noise's source, and he found it in the girl Bucky was supposed to be here on a date with, smiling back at her new companions with a flash of pearly whites. She was making friends, it seemed. It was better than the alternative: interrupting Bucky and Loki's conversation for Bucky to indulge her with a dance, or worse, return to her completely. Loki's gaze stayed on her as he took his and Bucky's drinks, but for the moment, at least, Bucky's absence didn't seem to concern her.

Bucky looked to be lost in thought when Loki approached, sat absently tapping his fingers on the tabletop in time to the music. "So who is she?" Loki said while he sat back down and passed Bucky his glass, his voice apparently jolting Bucky back to the present. "Your date."

"I don't know; the studio finds them." It was a more honest answer than Loki had expected. Perhaps now Bucky knew Loki was on to him he saw little point in fighting to keep up the charade so desperately. Loki would welcome that.

"I'm surprised you aren't here with Miss Martinelli," he said, one final push at Bucky's weakening pretences, though it was a struggle to get the words out without cracking a smile. Bucky saw through it regardless.

"No you aren't."

Loki grinned. "Well anyone who has witnessed the two of you attempting to portray young lovers would be hard pressed to believe there's any legitimate attraction between you," he said, and Bucky rolled his eyes as he picked up his tumbler again. They had already broached the subject on numerous occasions, though this was perhaps the first time they'd managed to do so without resorting to trading insults. There was still time, he supposed, though in that moment Loki was too distracted by the slow bob of Bucky's Adam's apple as he swallowed a mouthful of his scotch to particularly care about his acting.

"We're not here to talk about work," Bucky replied.

"I thought that was precisely why you were here."

"You want me to leave again?" he shot back, with an almost cocky arch of an eyebrow. He could give as good as he gets, it seemed. Loki liked that.

"No," he admitted, still smiling. "But then you don't want to go, either."

Bucky braved a look back at his date, his shoulders curling in like he was trying to make himself as small as possible and disappear out of sight. "Anyone ever tell you you're annoyingly insightful?" he said, his gaze flicking back up to meet Loki's, and Loki clapped a hand to his chest, faux-flattered.

"Why, Bucky, that may be the first compliment you've ever given me."

He gave a soft, warm chuckle of laughter in response, his smile lighting up his face. It could have lit up the room. Loki was by no means the type to be captivated by another person easily, yet he found it hard not to be drawn in by that look. "You know," Bucky said, "I used to think you were just a pompous hack."

"Yes, I had guessed as much." He leant forward, his eyes on Bucky, finger tracing around the rim of his glass almost unconsciously. He wasn't sure he'd want to hear the answer to his next question, but he asked it anyway. "And now?"

"Well to be honest I still kinda think you're a pompous hack," he admitted, and they shared a grin. "But I don't know; maybe you've got some good qualities too."

"Don't let anybody else hear you say that. I have a reputation to maintain."

Bucky's smile widened. "So," he said, "you hate the people here, you hate the movies; what would you rather be doing, if you had the choice?"

Loki sat back again, sucking in a deep breath and pursing his lips as he considered for a moment. "I suppose I would be back in London, or Paris, perhaps. Making real art," he replied in the end, and met Bucky's gaze again. "Where would you be?"

"Brooklyn," he said. He didn't need to think about it. "But I earn enough out here to take care of my ma and my sisters back home, so it's worth it."

"And if the work dries up?"

"Then I'll go home. Get a real job." He didn't sound particularly concerned about that becoming a reality. It was curious if he'd have felt the same before he'd hit the big leagues, before he'd learnt first-hand that Hollywood wasn't all it's cracked up to be. "I got to live my dream for a while, at least. It's more than most people get."

Loki nodded, and a hush fell over them as they sat sipping their drinks for a moment. It was some surprise they'd made it this far without running out of things to say, but even now the silence that stretched between them was a comfortable one. Loki had never seen the point of filling the air with inane small talk just for the sake of saying something, and it seemed Bucky was the same.

But after a while Bucky breached the silence. "Another round?" he said, eyeing Loki's empty glass once Loki had set it back down on the table.

"I'll get it."

"No you won't," Bucky said, on his feet and leaning over the table to pluck Loki's wallet from his hand before Loki could push his own chair back. He set the wallet down in front of Loki and helped himself to Loki's glass.

Loki was hardly going to argue. He'd already discovered Bucky could be a stubborn pain in the backside when he wanted to be. He let Bucky head for the bar without objection, sliding his wallet back into his pocket and looking about the room while he waited for Bucky to return. People had come and gone, different faces scattered about the tables and at the long bar, but the place seemed no less busy than it had upon Loki's arrival. In fact, the room seemed to have only grown louder now the guests had that much more liquor in their systems. Perhaps it was for that same reason that Loki found himself leaning in ever closer once Bucky had resumed his seat.

"Thank you," Loki said as Bucky handed him his drink, their fingers brushing for the briefest of seconds. "You managed to escape unaccosted, then?"

"More or less." His eyes darted to the table and he frowned a little. "Who's that?"

Loki followed his gaze down to the photograph pinned beneath his elbow and cursed silently. It was for appearances' sake he kept it in his wallet, though that didn't mean he was ever particularly happy about it; he'd long been in the habit of slipping the picture back out again the moment it was likely nobody would catch a glimpse of it. It must have dropped out of his pocket when he'd retrieved his wallet.

"My wife," he said reluctantly, "Lorelei."

Bucky raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know you were married."

Loki said nothing. He moved to put the photograph out of sight again, but Bucky held out a hand for it. Well, the damage was done, he supposed. He handed it over for Bucky to study.

"She's a fox," he said. "I've never seen her around. Where is she?"

"I don't know. Monte Carlo, probably." He quickly slipped the picture back into his pocket when Bucky offered it back to him, and took a long gulp of his drink. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"No kids?"

Loki's lip twitched, not quite a smile, but an acknowledgement of opportunity. "She's barren."

Bucky's eyes flashed with understanding, lips parting ever so slightly as if he was about to say something, but he schooled his features and took a sip of his own drink, the words never making it to his tongue.

A growing sense of unease churned in Loki's stomach. He had been too obvious, revealed too much. That had been his intention, of course, making Bucky comfortable enough that he would stop clinging to the lie Loki could already see through — or perhaps he had just grown weary of his own lies he was telling — but he realised now how foolish that had been. What was stopping Bucky from using that knowledge to deflect any unfortunate questions levelled at him?

Loki's more optimistic side doubted it, but it never had held much sway over the rest of him, and fear was such an ugly emotion, after all. Bucky may not have minded if his career came to a premature end, though he certainly wouldn't want it ending with his being run out of town.

"I trust you'll keep this information to yourself," Loki said, with more than a hint of warning in his tone. What could he say? He didn't much want to wind up ruined either.

Bucky nodded. There was nothing in his demeanour to suggest he had any intention of going back on his word, and Loki relaxed a little. If anything, Bucky simply looked relieved to know he wasn't the only one. "Don't you get sick of it," Bucky said after a moment, "putting on this show for the world?"

"Absolutely." Though perhaps Loki had it relatively easy. Aside from the excruciating holidays they were forced to spend with Loki's family, playing the doting couple, people rarely cared where Lorelei was; if the subject ever did arise it was easy enough to put to rest again with some lie as to her whereabouts. He didn't have to constantly flaunt his virility for these buzzards' entertainment the way Bucky did. "But you find ways to make it bearable. Away from prying eyes."

"You mean..." Bucky sounded almost scandalised by the revelation.

Loki eyed the people around them, encroaching upon his and Bucky's quiet corner of the room enough that they could try and overhear the conversation if they really had a mind to, and looked back to Bucky with arched eyebrows. "You never do?"

"Of course not," Bucky replied with a laugh, like Loki was talking outrageous nonsense.

"What, you choose to imagine hard muscles and chest hair while you bury yourself in the pretty young things you parade around instead?" Loki said. His words were quiet, but no more forgiving for it. "Or perhaps you hope to convince yourself as well as the rest of the world that your lust for these women is genuine."

Bucky remained silent, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Through the smoky haze and the soft light there looked to be a flush creeping onto Bucky's cheeks.

"It's easier than you might think, conducting your affairs in private," Loki said, and then, emboldened by the alcohol seeping into his system, perhaps, he added, "I could show you, if you like."

Bucky stared back at him with wide eyes, his jaw slackened, before he seemed to remember himself. His gaze darted about the room surreptitiously, teeth grazing his bottom lip as the implication of Loki's words sunk in, and Loki was overcome with a desperate hunger to close his own teeth around it, to feel Bucky beneath his hands, his lips. It had been too long since he'd shared his bed with someone. He just hoped Bucky would say yes.

"Come to my room later," Bucky said in the end, so quietly Loki had to strain to hear the words.

But oh, were they worth the effort. Loki nodded, his heart beginning to pound in anticipation already, and Bucky looked over his shoulder towards the bar.

"I should..." he said, gesturing back towards his date as he took his drink and stood.

"Yes, I imagine you've got some overcompensating to do."

He gazed back down at Loki with an exasperated look. "You're gonna make me regret this, aren't you?"

Loki grinned, but he made no further comment. He watched as Bucky stepped away, visibly steeling himself before plastering a bright smile on his face as he returned to the women sat at the bar. To a casual observer, there would be nothing amiss about the way Bucky behaved around them, charming them, making them laugh and swoon with effortless charisma. They wouldn't notice the strain behind his smile, the way his gaze darted about the room to make sure eyes were on him when he leant in closer to whisper something to the three women and proceeded to lead them all out of the bar, presumably back to his room.

Loki let out a huff of laughter to himself as he brought his glass to his lips. Bucky was overcompensating indeed. He couldn't deny it was effective, though; an excitable titter swept among those who had witnessed the display, outwardly scandalised but inwardly thrilled at Bucky's audacity. If only they knew the truth. Now there would be a real scandal to satisfy their bloodlust, for a short while, at least.

This would be enough to please them for tonight, though. As Loki watched, slowly sipping his drink, people seemed to have had new life breathed into them, their patience rewarded. They sat gossiping and giggling, the journalists among the crowd frantically scribbling their account of events to report on in the morning. Loki's lip curled in distaste.

He finished his drink, but didn't bother to get up and order another. It had been his intention earlier this evening to drink himself into a nice stupor before collapsing into bed and the welcoming embrace of unconsciousness, and his mind was already a little clouded from his efforts, but now that he had far better plans for the night he'd rather have a clear head. He checked his wristwatch and pushed himself to his feet, weaving between the tables towards the exit.

The rest of the hotel was quiet as the grave compared to the bar. A finely dressed couple strolled in through the main doors of the opulent lobby and passed in the opposite direction without a glance Loki's way, but he saw no others as he headed back to his own room. The closest he came to discovering signs of life was when he paused outside his door to dig through his pockets for the key: the sound of a woman's delicate laughter rang out from behind him, carried across the hall from Bucky's room opposite his own. Loki rolled his eyes at the sound at stepped into his room.

He slid out of his jacket and dropped it on the bed, rolling up his shirtsleeves as he stepped into the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. It went some way to refreshing him, and he gazed up into the mirror to study his reflection. He looked presentable enough, but still he cleaned up a little, if only to give himself some distraction until the time came to cross the hall and see Bucky.

The seconds were passing far too slowly for his liking.

Loki finished up in the bathroom and paused in the doorway, looking around the modest bedroom he'd called home for the past week. He had a few paperbacks he could read to while away the time, though between the lingering fog in his mind and thoughts of Bucky he doubted he'd be able to concentrate much. In the end he decided to take a stroll through the courtyard behind the lobby. It would probably be empty at this time of night, and hopefully the fresh air — or whatever passed for it here — would finish sobering him up.

He slid his jacket back on without bothering to button it and gave himself a final once-over before pulling open his door.

Bucky's door was also open, to Loki's surprise, and he was stood in the doorway gazing back into his room. He'd taken off his own jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, his top button undone and tie loosened a little. It was lucky the hall was empty; Loki wasn't sure he'd be able to keep himself from drinking in the sight even if others had been around. He caught himself quickly, though, before any of Bucky's companions could catch sight of him as Bucky saw them from his room. Not one of them looked Loki's way, but he hung back regardless, checking his watch again with a smile as the ladies passed him. It couldn't have been much more than twenty minutes since Bucky had disappeared with them.

"Well I daresay this doesn't inspire confidence in your stamina," he said when the girls were out of earshot.

"I didn't fuck them," replied Bucky, his voice low, while he watched them head back down the hall, an air of disappointment to them as they went. Once they were out of sight he met Loki's eyes, stepping back into the room and nodding for Loki to join him.

Before he dared take a step Loki quickly glanced up and down the corridor to ensure nobody had approached in the seconds his gaze had been on Bucky. He could always claim to be discussing work, or even just sharing a friendly nightcap, should anyone notice him slipping in or out of Bucky's room, but he preferred to err on the side of caution nonetheless.

"Do you ever?" he said as he ducked into the room.

Bucky didn't answer. "Your wife," he said instead, avoiding Loki's eyes perhaps purposefully while he closed the door. "The two of you must..."

"Ours is a mutually beneficial arrangement, I assure you," Loki replied before Bucky could finish stumbling over his sentence, and turned from Bucky to take a look around the room.

It was larger and far more elegant than Loki's. A neatly arranged living area sat to one side of the door, the bedroom lying behind an open set of wide French doors on the other, the walls of both decorated with inoffensive yet clearly high-priced artwork. It was to be expected. Loki wasn't the star — the studio didn't have to worry about keeping him sweet, no big loss to them if he went to work elsewhere — and he didn't have the same kind of after-hours entertaining to do that Bucky did.

"Drink?"

"No," Loki said, watching as Bucky moved to the bar to pour himself a glass. He drained it in one. "Nervous?"

"Shut up."

Loki smirked at that. There was a sudden shriek of laughter from outside, quickly followed by another and sounds of spirited conversation, and Loki stepped towards the windows to peer out into the hotel's gardens. "It seems your friends have found a way to entertain themselves without you," he said, watching as the women splashed and kicked about in the fountain that sat proudly in the centre of the courtyard.

They disappeared in and out of view while they ran back and forth, obscured by the flora offering some measure of privacy to the rooms looking out on the courtyard. Even illuminated only by the few lights dotted about, bright flowers climbing the walls stood out sharply against the pale stucco, the pungent scents of jasmine and honeysuckle and wisteria drifting into the room on the evening breeze, still warm and sticky despite the sun having set hours before.

God, Loki hated California.

He pulled the window closed and secured the curtains, crossing into the bedroom to do the same again until he and Bucky were isolated from the rest of the world. When he looked back Bucky had taken the hint, and the sound of the lock on the door clicking into place echoed through the quiet room. Loki smiled, another wave of excited butterflies tickling in his gut, and moved to rejoin Bucky. He slid off his jacket and, without ever tearing his eyes from Bucky, tossed it over the back of the armchair while he strolled forward, his steps deliberately slow. Couldn't look too eager, now, could he?

Bucky remained with his back pressed to the door, hand curled tight around the doorknob as if he wasn't yet fully committed to the idea of letting Loki stay, but he didn't ask him to leave, didn't move away when Loki stepped closer. He was close enough that he was almost pinning Bucky against the door, and Bucky's breathing stopped, his eyes on Loki's for a moment before Loki finally leant in to kiss him.

His lips were soft, warm, the taste of expensive scotch faint on his tongue when, after the initial hesitation melted away, Bucky began to respond. Loki hadn't given much thought to what it would feel like kissing Bucky — his mind been more consumed by what would come after — but still he found himself surprised by it. Bucky remained somewhat tentative, yet his enthusiasm only grew as their kiss wore on, a hint of roughness emerging with Bucky's increasing desperation as if the conscious part of his mind had surrendered to his baser instincts.

It had taken him long enough.

They parted just enough to catch their breaths, and a triumphant grin stretched across Loki's face before they were quickly pulling one another close again, like each other's lips offered the only sustenance they needed. His teeth grazed Bucky's bottom lip, running his tongue over it as he heard Bucky's breath catch, and he slid his fingers along Bucky's cheeks and into his neatly combed hair. He wouldn't look nearly so well put-together by the time Loki was through with him.

But before he could make good on that intention they broke apart again, and this time Bucky slipped from between Loki's body and the wall. Loki turned to watch while Bucky stepped away, his eyes cast to the floor and fingers pressing to his lips like he could still feel Loki on them.

"Now why can't you kiss Miss Martinelli like that?" Loki said.

Bucky spun back around, whatever thoughts had been swirling through his mind forgotten as he rolled his eyes at Loki. "Do you ever stop?"

"Well," Loki said with a casual shrug that belied the way his heart thundered in his chest, "I could be persuaded to shut my trap for a while."

Bucky stared back at him for a moment, lips pursed, until finally they curled into a smile and he moved closer. His fingers hooked around Loki's suspenders and pulled him in for another kiss. It was even hungrier than the last, if such a thing was possible.

Impatiently Bucky pushed Loki's suspenders past his shoulders and fumbled to loosen his tie without ever breaking their kiss, and Loki steered them back towards the bedroom, blood pounding in his ears, his hands grasping tightly at Bucky's hips to keep him pressed close against Loki's body. It would have been smarter to break apart, to actually watch where they were going so they could reach the bed in one piece, but in that moment the thought of Bucky's lips leaving his sounded like the worst idea in the world. Bucky caught Loki's bottom lip between his teeth in a way that had Loki moaning into his mouth, heat surging low in his abdomen, but Bucky didn't draw out the sensation. Loki was about to curse him for that until he realised why. Bucky stepped back, kicking off his shoes while he yanked open his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, and Loki began pulling off his own clothes in turn, his eyes on Bucky all the while.

He was sculpted to perfection, of course. Loki would ordinarily roll his eyes at the predictability, though, shallow as it may be, he couldn't say he minded this time. It was nothing Loki hadn't seen on set before, but there was something different about witnessing it this close, the two of them alone in the intimacy of Bucky's room, and he realised now just how much he'd wanted to run his hands over Bucky's body the last time he'd seen it.

He indulged himself this time.

Bucky's muscles clenched a little beneath Loki's fingers as he dragged them slowly down his chest, his stomach, inching towards the belt of his trousers, and he paused, his gaze flicking back up to Bucky's face. Loki couldn't quite tell if Bucky was waiting for him to continue with excitement or trepidation, or some balance between the two, perhaps. Whatever it was, the bulge in his trousers while Loki's fingers hovered close to his groin was unambiguous enough to speak for itself.

He palmed it briefly, and Bucky made a small noise in the back of his throat, kissed Loki again like he was desperate for it while Loki tugged open Bucky's belt and pushed his trousers past his hips to drop to the floor. He probably was. God knows Loki hungered for this more than he could remember yearning for anything in quite some time, and he'd never been one to deny himself what he wanted.

"Get on the bed," Loki said, his voice rough, when they pulled apart again, and Bucky obliged with a nod.

He stared up at Loki, propped up on his elbows, while Loki allowed his gaze to drift down to take him all in before climbing onto the bed to settle between Bucky's thighs. He could feel the heat of Bucky's skin without even touching him. They kissed again, briefly but with no less hunger, one final press of their lips together before the real fun started.

"So you do this a lot?" Bucky said against Loki's lips, gazing up at Loki with hooded eyes when Loki pulled back to look at him.

"As often as I can," he replied. "Which isn't nearly often enough." He pushed Bucky down onto the mattress with a firm hand to the centre of his chest. From the slight grin on his face as he dropped backwards, it looked like Bucky quite enjoyed the rough treatment. Loki would have to bear that in mind. "But don't worry; I know what I'm doing."

He slithered backwards, his hands gripping Bucky's sides hard enough to bruise as he kissed his way down Bucky's body, mapping it with his lips and tongue and teeth, Bucky's shaking breaths the only sound in the room. Bucky tensed while Loki's tongue slid lazily along the groove where his thigh met his sharp hipbone. He knew full well what was coming next. Even Loki's stomach was coiling with anticipation. He hadn't expected to want this so much, and maybe it wasn't Bucky he craved but simply anyone he could get, but regardless Loki's blood ran hot through his veins. He licked his lips and closed his hand around the base of Bucky's erection.

A sharp groan escaped Bucky, unbidden, by the sound of it, and Loki looked up at him through his eyelashes. His eyes were closed, lips parted and brows drawn in a light frown, as if he was holding himself back, unable or unwilling to give himself over completely now they were here.

Loki would soon see to that.

He squeezed his hand around the base of Bucky's shaft ever so slightly tighter and licked a long stripe up towards the head, closing his mouth around it when he reached it and sucking firmly. Loki was desperately hard himself. His cock throbbed, heavy and sensitive, every slight shift as he tried to find a more comfortable position jolting it against the mattress and making him ache to simply push his hips down and start grinding against it. Perhaps it was just that he had yet to touch himself making his arousal so much more pronounced. He'd never been particularly generous in bed, never cared enough about those he welcomed into it to put their pleasure before his own, yet as much as he needed the relief of a hand on his cock, he was more interested in bringing Bucky to his fill first. It was some miracle he'd managed to get Bucky to open up at all; he would hardly feel inclined to risk doing this again unless it was something incredible. And Loki dearly hoped they would do this again.

He ran his hand along Bucky's inner thigh and teased his sac between his thumb and fingers while he pulled back to tongue at the head of Bucky's cock some more, and the tension in Bucky's body gradually ebbed away beneath Loki's ministrations. Bucky made a noise like he'd tried and failed to keep his moan to himself, and Loki cracked an eye open to see him clenching his fists, as if he was torn between bunching them into the bedsheets beneath him or into Loki's hair to hold him in place and start fucking his mouth.

Loki couldn't say he'd mind the latter. He had half a mind to tell Bucky to do so, the thought of him tangling his fingers in Loki's hair and tugging hard sending another pulse of heat straight to Loki's neglected erection. But that would mean pulling back enough to get the words out, and Loki was thoroughly enjoying Bucky's cock too much to relinquish it even for a moment. So he said nothing, swallowing down Bucky's cock again with a renewed sense of purpose, and Bucky settled for clasping his fists tightly around rumpled handfuls of the bedsheets as he bucked and quivered and writhed beneath Loki.

"Loki," Bucky said after another few minutes, more a choked gasp than a word, his hips thrusting up into Loki's mouth seemingly without control and his fingers at long last threading into Loki's hair. A wretched groan followed, and he was spilling across Loki's tongue.

This was always Loki's least favourite part, but he didn't gag, didn't pull away until Bucky had ridden out his climax and dropped, panting, back onto the mattress. Loki crawled off of the bed to cross into the adjoining bathroom, quickly rinsing his mouth out and taking a moment to catch his own breath before he returned to the bedroom. Bucky was lying gazing up at the ceiling when Loki stepped back into the room. He looked like Loki had blown his mind. Loki couldn't help but feel a smug sense of pride at that.

"What was that you were saying about not being queer?"

"You're such an ass," Bucky shot back, though there was no fire in his tone. He didn't even bother to so much as scowl in Loki's direction.

Loki chuckled as he sauntered out of the bedroom towards where he'd left his jacket, and he retrieved his cigarette tin from the pocket, helping himself to the crystal ashtray on the end table beside the sofa on his way back to Bucky. He'd recovered enough to prop himself up on his elbows, watching Loki's movements while he set his things down on the nightstand and placed a cigarette between his lips, struck a match and lit it. Bucky said nothing, but there was something weighted to his silence, the moment's pause before the big drop on a rollercoaster, and he climbed up onto his knees while Loki breathed in deep, holding the smoke in his lungs, slowly exhaling as he passed the cigarette to Bucky.

"Thanks," Bucky said, and took a quick drag before resting his free hand on the back of Loki's neck and pulling him into a kiss.

Just the feel of Bucky's tongue teasing his was enough to rouse Loki's wilting erection, and his hands fell to Bucky's hips again to hold him close. They slid up his flanks, over the bumps of his ribs and the sinew of muscle, until Bucky broke the kiss to pull back. He brought the cigarette to his lips again while he met Loki's eyes, a hint of uncertainty in his own, and reached between them to take Loki's cock in hand.

It was about damn time.

Loki smiled, let out a satisfied hum at the sensation of finally having Bucky's warm hand on him, but he didn't dare close his eyes. He wanted to see all of this. He held Bucky's gaze while Bucky stroked him, his movements steadily gaining confidence, and Loki pushed his hips into the touch just enough to draw out the slow drag of Bucky's hand up and down his cock a little longer. He was content to take it slow, though, despite having to wait far longer than he'd prefer for some relief. It was the way he liked to satisfy his needs himself, more often than not — of course, some nights he was too impatient for anything but a quick release, but most of the time he liked to tease himself this same way Bucky was now, letting the pleasure seep into his every nerve ending, his every cell, pushing himself to the very edge without ever quite tumbling over it until he couldn't bear the torment a moment longer. And if this was the only night he'd get to spend with Bucky, Loki wanted it to last.

Bucky's hands were surprisingly rough, though Loki found it wasn't an unpleasant sensation. If anything, the occasional catch of a coarse patch on Bucky's palm against the too-sensitive skin of Loki's cock only heightened the tension in his groin, the race of his heartbeat, the quickness of his breath. He wondered briefly — and how the thought had even managed to break through the thick haze of arousal clouding his mind, he didn't know — about the kind of life Bucky had led back in Brooklyn that had made his hands so much more calloused than the sheltered, pampered people in this town; fixing cars and broken water heaters, fighting, living. In some ways Bucky was more a man of the world than Loki was, so much of his life spent studying the world from a distance instead of really experiencing any of it.

But even as his mind drifted elsewhere, even as the growing heat in his belly made it hard to think at all, even as Bucky's thumb dragging slowly over the head of his cock sent a powerful surge of electric sensation through him and had him sucking in a sharp breath, the idea of Bucky working with his hands stayed with him. It created quite an appealing picture, and the thought combined with Bucky's hand working him ever closer to his release brought a low moan to Loki's lips, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut briefly amidst the sensory overload.

He opened them again to see Bucky looking down while he palmed Loki's cock, long eyelashes brushing his lightly flushed cheeks, and Loki didn't know what possessed him to do it, but he pressed his lips too softly to Bucky's cheek, before moving lower to plant a similarly gentle kiss on his lips.

Luckily Bucky didn't seem to mind. He draped his arm across Loki's shoulders, nails digging into Loki's skin adding just the slightest sting to undercut the tenderness. It wasn't long before the tongues and teeth came back into play anyway, and soon Loki could feel Bucky's cock growing stiff again against his hip. He pulled away from Bucky's lips with a smile, took another step back when Bucky leant forward to try and kiss him again. It pained him to let Bucky's grasp on his cock loosen and drop away, but he had something better in mind.

"What's wrong?" Bucky said as he looked up at Loki. His lips were a deep crimson, parted as his ragged breaths punched through them, and it took a greater amount of Loki's willpower than it should have done to resist the urge to move in close and kiss him again there and then.

"Nothing." He sounded wrecked to his own ears, even as the almost painful throbbing in his cock had ebbed a little in the seconds without Bucky's touch steering him towards his approaching climax. If this was how he sounded now, he dreaded to think what he could have been like minutes before, lost in the heat of it, his moans falling freely from his lips. What an embarrassment. But then Bucky was in a similar state himself, so he was in no position to judge Loki too harshly. "Lie back on the bed."

Bucky did so without ever letting his gaze slip from Loki, and Loki climbed onto the mattress after him, settling himself above Bucky and kissing him again as the press of Bucky's erection against his stomach sent another thrill through him. He pressed his hips down against Bucky's, a moment to just enjoy the grind of their bodies together, before he slipped a hand between them to hold both of their cocks together. Bucky gasped a little when he did so, and the sound melted into a soft groan once Loki had begun to thrust against him.

"Fuck," Bucky breathed, squeezing his eyes shut and arching back, his neck stretched invitingly before Loki's mouth.

It was some effort to tear his eyes away and keep himself from diving in, marking Bucky for all on set to see in the morning regardless of the consequences, but Loki forced himself. "You like it?" he said, despite the answer being evident enough on Bucky's face. He still wanted to hear it.

Bucky nodded. "Yeah," he said, for good measure. "Yeah, that feels good."

"Well, obviously." He wasn't sure 'good' even covered it. The pressure around Loki's cock was sublime, desperate keens drawing out of the both of them when Loki tightened his grasp, and the feel of the wet head of Bucky's cock nudging against his own had Loki's toes curling, the fingers of this free hand tangling in the sheets beside Bucky's head as if the extra purchase would help him support himself on his already trembling arm.

He dropped down to kiss Bucky again — perhaps more to seize on the opportunity to rest on his elbow than anything — and as they tasted each other like that wasn't what they'd been doing for the past hour already Bucky's hands slid into Loki's hair again, keeping him from pulling back until Bucky was ready to let him go. Loki couldn't say he had any objections to that, though.

As they moved together, Bucky rocking his hips up into Loki's fist as well now — completely out of sync with each other, of course, but neither could bring themselves to care — his hands moved from Loki's hair to grasp at the back of his neck, his shoulders, sliding down his spine to steer Loki's hips against his own, and an idea sparked in Loki's enraptured mind that brought another grin to his face. He pulled back, abandoning his tight hold on their erections — a sensation he was as disappointed to lose as Bucky, though he managed to make it through without the frustrated noise Bucky gave — and peeled Bucky's hands from his hips to pin them against the pillows above their heads.

Bucky looked up at him curiously. "What are you doing?"

"Trust me."

He held Bucky's hands tight to the bed with one hand as he sank down again, the other returning to its place around their cocks, and resumed his movements. They weren't nearly as controlled now, anything even close to control long since having abandoned him, but Bucky was more interested in Loki's hand clasping his own to notice.

He craned his neck to peer up at where Loki had pinned him in place before tensing beneath him with a grin, his biceps flexing when he tested Loki's grip. It was all Loki could do to keep holding on at that sight. "You know I could get out from this if I wanted," Bucky said, with a slight wriggle to demonstrate his point. But judging by the thrill glittering in his eyes as Loki held him down, he wanted nothing more than to stay at Loki's mercy.

"You won't, though."

Those words proved too much of a taunt for Bucky to resist, as it turned out. He played along for a while, tensing beneath Loki but letting him pin him down until, just as Loki was leaning in to drag his teeth along Bucky's jawbone, Bucky pulled his arms free, wrapping them around Loki's back while he rolled them over. He peered down at Loki with another crooked smile while Loki fought to reorient himself. "Oh, no?"

"Well aren't you a contrary one?" Loki said, and folded his arms under his head to let Bucky take over.

And he was only too eager to. Loki would have thought he'd balk at being more than the passive object of Loki's attention that he'd largely been thus far, though it seemed Bucky's lust was overpowering his reservations as he rolled his hips against Loki's without faltering. But it was only a few moments before Loki couldn't resist sliding his hand back to their cocks, too close now to surrender completely to Bucky's whims. God forbid Bucky's sense of denial reawaken and he pull back before Loki could have his fill.

His body grew tight and tighter still, sweat prickling his skin, his every fibre of his being readying itself, and he cried out against Bucky's lips in that blissful moment the tension snapped. Bucky's hand came to join Loki's around them both as Loki arched and shuddered in the throes of his orgasm, and even as he'd finished coating his stomach and chest with his release Bucky stroked him, his movements growing gentler as Loki softened despite his own burgeoning arousal. Lazily Loki batted Bucky's hand away to wrap his own around Bucky's cock, letting Bucky fuck his fist until his release followed Loki's.

It didn't take long. He came with a drawn out moan, his hips faltering while he rode it out, and once it was over he sank heavily onto the bed beside Loki. The sound of their mingled breaths filled the air, both too exhausted to muster up the energy to form words yet. The bedsheets were rumpled uncomfortably beneath Loki's back, though he couldn't find the strength to shift away from the lump, cursing it silently while he waited for the feeling to return to his limbs.

After a time — it could have been seconds or minutes for all Loki was aware of it — he managed to peer over at Bucky, looking as sluggish as Loki felt while he pushed wet strands of hair from his forehead like it took all his strength just to move his arm. He gazed up at nothing in particular for a moment before meeting Loki's eyes.

"You can get cleaned up, if you want," he said, and gestured weakly to the bathroom.

Loki nodded and swung his legs off the bed, fatigue already seeping deep into his muscles as he crossed back into the bathroom. He climbed into the tub and turned the shower on as cold as he could get it, ducking his head under the icy spray for a few seconds before he even thought of scrubbing himself clean. He didn't dare linger long, though, as much as he might have wished to revel in the water soothing his heated skin; the corridor outside may have been free of people to take notice of what time Loki had come slinking into Bucky's room, though the later he was spotted leaving again, the harder it would be to explain away what they'd been up to. So Loki quickly rinsed his stained torso clean, ignoring the sensitivity still lingering when he rubbed his hands over himself, and shut off the water.

He stepped from the shower to find Bucky stood inside the doorway waiting for him to finish. "You could have joined me," said Loki while he reached for a soft towel and wrapped it around his waist. It would have been a bad idea, he knew, but then sometimes that only made it more fun.

Bucky looked like he quite liked the sound of that as well. "I thought it better not to," he said, though, shrugging a little as he spoke and gazing down at his feet. Whatever Loki had tempted out of him in bed, it seemed Bucky was trying to lock it away again, self-conscious now the haze of lust had passed and the realisation of what he'd given in to was really dawning on him for the first time. He shrank away a little when Loki moved closer, but once Loki's fingers had found their way to Bucky's hipbone again he quickly melted into the touch, leaning in to meet Loki's kiss without pause.

Loki longed to stay. He could only imagine the ways they could while away the hours until dawn together — or even, failing that, simply wrap his arms around Bucky and spend the night with someone asleep beside him for a change. It wasn't something he often wanted, though the desire would strike, sudden and intense, from time to time, and Loki was ever powerless to satisfy that need. But he knew better than to risk being caught slipping from Bucky's room in the morning.

Reluctantly he dragged himself away from Bucky's lips, letting Bucky clean himself up while Loki returned to the main room to dry and dress himself. The sound of running water taunted him all the while, Loki's every impulse screaming for him to step back into the shower and join Bucky, as he did his best not to think about having to spend the rest of the night alone. He'd got what he'd wanted; that would be enough to satisfy him for now. Though he wasn't one to ever stay content for long.

The water shut off just as Loki was gathering the last of his things, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Bucky appearing in the doorway again. He looked as loathe to see Loki go as Loki was to be going.

"Until the morning, then," Loki said while he slipped his cigarettes back into his pocket, sliding his jacket on and straightening his tie to ensure he looked as presentable as he had when he'd arrived, before he made a move to head out of the bedroom one final time.

Bucky nodded, folded his arms across his chest, all without a word, and as Loki headed towards the door Bucky took a step to follow before stopping himself. His muffled footsteps on the thick pile of the carpet was the only sound, no footfall or conversation from the corridor outside, and when Loki poked his head out into the hall it was mercifully empty.

"Hey," Bucky said, his voice a little uncertain, before Loki could step through the door, and Loki paused to look back at him. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and something burning with intensity in his eyes as he met Loki's gaze. "Are you coming by tomorrow night?"

As if he even needed to ask. Loki fought to keep his face impassive, though, regarding Bucky with a shrug like the thought had never occurred to him before, like he wasn't already counting down the hours. "We'll see," he said simply, and slipped back into his own room with a grin.


End file.
